


Good Times For A Change

by Amberly



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: 2x3 Club Dues, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2045880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberly/pseuds/Amberly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pilots are undercover at The Circus. What happens when Trowa finally catches a glimpse of Duo's part of the show?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Times For A Change

**Author's Note:**

> This was partially inspired by lowkey-mischief, on tumblr, who is excellent in all ways. A short get-together PWP.

Trowa froze at the entrance to the tent, mouth going dry. The circus was in full swing, every seat filled. Bright lights focused on the center, where Duo was dancing. Duo was dancing shirtless, wearing the kind of pants Trowa had seen the Maganacs wear, a snake draped over his shoulders. Trowa swallowed, hand tightening on the rough canvas, eyes glued to the slow, deliberate undulation of Duo’s hips. With his braid swinging behind him as a counterpoint, Duo danced to the low wail of Quatre’s violin, lips curved in a smirk. Hooded violet eyes lined in khol met Trowa’s briefly, and the Russian felt his knees weaken.

“He looks good,” Heero commented, leaning with crossed arms against the raised seats. There was thunderous applause from the crowd as Wufei, skin bared and painted with a dragon, breathed a long plume of fire. Trowa grunted, turning and stalking out of the tent, heading for his trailer. Duo looked good--and it was clear he knew it. Clear in the way he wound his hips, the slow roll of his body. The way his heated gaze had met Trowa’s and clung. Slamming the door of his trailer, Trowa flung himself down on his bed.

They were using the circus as cover. All five of them, traveling through the colonies as they waited for their next set of orders. And they all had an act, a way to earn their keep. Heero did an impressive strong man routine. Duo had teamed up with Wufei and Quatre, and their act closed out the evening. This was the first time Trowa had seen it--and he hated it. Hated how good Duo looked, moving to Quatre’s violin, Wufei’s fire lighting him from behind and bringing out every strand of color in his hair: the subtle play of red and gold amongst the brown.

Trowa reached for a pillow, pulling it over his head. There was something wrong with it. With Duo being put on display, the audience running anonymous eyes over the firm planes of his chest, the curve of his hip. Trowa growled, sitting up and shoving his bangs away from his face. He stood, slipping off his suspenders and shoving down the ballooned pants he wore. His act was over, and he was done for the evening. The others would want to get together, to celebrate a night well done. Trowa couldn’t stand it. Because he would be there, Duo, flirting with the other acrobats, flashing sidelong looks and running his lips over his glass of whiskey. Trowa seethed, fisting his hands at his sides.

“Tro?” there was a light knock, and then Duo was stepping in, smelling of smoke and kerosene, glistening with oil. Trowa glared at him, shoulders tensing. Duo pushed his braid over his shoulder, giving him a sheepish grin. “Sorry, man. Wufei and Heero are uh, busy, and I needed a place to change.”

“What about Quatre?” Trowa ground out. Duo pinked.

“Oh, uh. I didn’t think--”

“Fine. Just--change,” Trowa turned, crossing his arms over his chest. Duo frowned, eyeing the well-muscled back in front of him. Trowa was angry, his body tense, and Duo slid off the pants he’d worn during the show, jerking on a pair of jeans. Duo ran his hand through his bangs, then twisted the end of his braid in his hands.

“Tro? Did I--Did I do something wrong?” Duo’s shoulders were bowed, eyes flicking up at Trowa’s face from under thick lashes. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Duo felt nauseous, stomach as twisted as the braid in his hands. He swallowed as the silence stretched on. And then Trowa’s shoulders slumped, a deep sigh filling the room.

“No, Duo. It’s not you,” Trowa turned a little, giving Duo a small half-smile over his shoulder. Green eyes made a quick survey of the scene, before closing. Trowa sighed again. Duo’s jeans were tight, and he was still shirtless. All that fussing with his braid had caused it to come loose, framing his face in wisps. He looked beautiful, especially with his lower lip  jutting out, full and pink and perfectly kissable. Trowa’s eyes snapped open.

“Tro?” Duo tilted his head, brow furrowing as he looked at his friend. Trowa looked-a little pale. Not well. Duo stepped forward, reaching to place the inside of his wrist on his forehead, rising up on his toes to do so.

“I, uh. I’m okay. You should--go find Quatre--” Trowa needed Duo out. Needed Duo to be far away and not standing next to him, both of them shirtless, his lips so close and full and tempting, and--Trowa cursed to himself, taking a firm step back. Duo was pouting.

“I don’t want to find Quatre. I want to hang out with you,” Duo crossed his arms over his chest. Trowa was being difficult, and it stung. They were friends--Duo had thought they were friends. They’d spent hours together, sketching silently in the tent with the lions, listening to the sounds of the circus around them. Quiet was hard to come by at the circus, hard to come by during the war. Duo didn’t mind quiet with Trowa. It didn't’ stagnante, didn’t pull at his wounds, and he found himself looking forward to their time together. Trowa wasn’t looking at him.

“Fine. I’ll go,” Duo whirled and stormed out of the trailer, missing the sudden curl of Trowa’s body, the flash of pain over his face. Duo wasn’t going to stay where he wasn't’ wanted. There was a hollow place in his chest, something like the soft, bruised part of a fruit. He swallowed around it, throwing himself in to one of the dusty piles of hay in the lion’s tent. So what if this was Trowa’s spot. Trowa had his trailer--his own trailer. Duo had to share, and he didn’t think he could face Quatre right now, not with his empathy.

It was a stupid crush. A bad idea in the middle of a way they weren’t sure they could win. Duo bit his lip, the straw scratchy against his back. It was a stupid crush and Duo didn’t want it anymore. It wasn’t like Trowa would notice him anyway. He was scrawny, too small, and Duo didn’t even know if Trowa liked guys.  Duo sighed, sitting up, bits of straw in his hair. Trowa was allowed to want personal space. He was dealing with something, and Duo was just going to have to deal with it. He flopped back against the hay, sending up a puff of dust. Didn’t mean he had to like it though.

* * *

Trowa wandered the camp with his hands shoved in his pocket. Quatre hadn’t seen Duo. He’d given Trowa a once over, called him an idiot, and shut the door in his face. Heero and Wufei were busy, still, the door to their trailer firmly locked. And now Duo was missing. He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t know how to explain. Seeing Duo dance had made him white hot with anger--anger that others were watching, gazing on skin that Trowa wanted to be his. He swallowed. With a sigh, he made his way to the lion’s tent, bracing himself for lonely silence

What he found was Duo, curled on his side in a pile of loose hay, pieces of straw stuck in his hair. He was still shirtless, eyes shut. A sleeping Shinigami, beautiful and deadly. Trowa’s pulse fluttered. The big cats stirred a little as Trowa entered, then settled. If it had been anyone else, their noise would’ve woken Duo. As it was, Trowa was able to settle on the ground next to the pallet, reaching out to brush a lock of hair off Duo’s face.

Duo’s eyes opened, hazy violet, the khol smeared with sleep. Trowa’s lips curved in to a soft, affectionate smile, fingers lingering over Duo’s cheek. If he was reading Quatre right...maybe there was something here. The answering smile curling over Duo’s lips made Trowa’s breath catch, hand stilling on his jaw. Duo looked at him with wide violet eyes, naked affection visible, and Trowa swallowed. Wet his lips. Duo’s brow furrowed.

“Tro--?”

“Shh,” Trowa’s breath was sweet and warm, wafting over Duo’s cheek as their lips brushed together. Duo’s eyes widened further, then slid shut, hand cupping the back of Trowa’s head. Lips parting, Trowa ran his tongue over the seem of Duo’s lips, fingers closing reflexively against his jaw. Duo’s lips were firm and soft, his hair silky under Trowa’s fingers as he slid them in to the base of his braid. He shuddered as their tongues met, biting back a moan and pulling away to pant against his lips.

“I hate your costume,” Trowa’s eyes were hooded, the emerald lost in the shadows of the tent. Duo stiffened, mouth opening, a retort hot on his lips. Trowa’s brushed his thumb over the swell of his lower lip, chuckling softly and following the path with his tongue. “I don’t like anyone else looking at you.”

Warmth blossomed in Duo’s chest. He flushed, then fisted Trowa’s hair, drawing him in and kissing him again, hungry for the feeling of Trowa’s lips against his, the slide of his tongue in his mouth. There was a hard body pressing him back against the hay, cool fingers sliding up his chest, and Duo broke the kiss with a gasp. He looked up at Trowa with swollen lips and drooping eyelids.

“Jealous?”

“Yes,” Trowa growled, hips rolling forward, once. Duo hissed at the sudden contact, arcing with pleasure, then laughed, low and husky. He flicked his tongue out at Trowa’s lower lip.

“Don’t be. Been waiting weeks for you to notice me,” Duo hooked a leg over Trowa’s hip, stroking his hands over the broad expanse of Trowa’s back. The Russian growled again, tugging Duo’s upper lip into his mouth, biting down and sending sparks of heat through him.

“I noticed.”

“Good,” Duo thrust his hips up, body rolling in mimicry of his dance from earlier. “You gonna do something about it?” It was said with a challenge, with a soft hitch in Duo’s breath, and Trowa laughed, running the pads of his fingers along the full swell of Duo’s cheek. They kissed, hips grinding slowly together, Trowa’s hand brushing over Duo’s collarbones, the firm nub of his nipple. Duo moaned, head falling back against the hay, eager for Trowa’s answer.

“I am,” Trowa’s hand was in Duo’s pants, wrapping around his cock and stroking slowly. Duo thrust into his hand, moaning, hands tightening on Trowa’s shoulders. He needed Trowa’s pants off, needed to feel him hard and hot and heavy against himself, and he whined as Trowa’s thumb slid over the sensitive head. Fumbling with the button of Trowa’s jeans, he let out an explosive breath as they popped open. There was no finesse, nothing soft now, just lips and tongues and the occasional scrape of Trowa’s teeth against Duo’s neck.

“Trowa,” Duo moaned. His hand was tight on Trowa’s cock, stroking and pulling and finally bringing them into alignment. The steady roll of his hips, the friction between their cocks, drew a ragged groan from Trowa, and Duo braced his other hand on Trowa’s hip, squeezing and kneading the flesh as they moved together, sweat slick and moaning against each other’s skin. Trowa’s lips were on Duo’s skin, his mouth sealed around the fevered beat of his pulse, hands gripping him hard enough to bruise. It was white hot and crashing over them like an avalanche, clean and white and deafening silence, after, panting against Duo’s neck.

“Shit. Shit, Tro,” Duo breathed, lips brushing Trowa’s ear, his temple. Trowa laughed softly, fingers running gently through the loose hair at Duo’s ear.

“You know...my trailer has a bed,” he suggested, turning his head to suck at Duo’s lower lip, fingers toying with a nipple. Duo whimpered, then grinned, out of breath and pink and sticky with sweat. Trowa stood, then drew Duo up after him, tucking them both back in to their pants. He took Duo’s hand, leading him back towards the trailer. Opening the door, he lead Duo in, then pinned him against the it, ravaging his mouth and pushing his pants down around his hips, over the toned thighs. They’d need to talk, later, and sleep, but for now, Trowa was content to lose himself in Duo’s body, the heady pleasure of his kiss, oblivious to anything outside the trailer door. 


End file.
